(no subject)

[moon_custafer]

One of the features of the new apartment is a beautiful but high-maintenance floor that needs to be kept dusted and free of shoes and have oil massaged into it at intervals. We need to get a humidifier soon, for the floor. I think I could stand to be humidified and massaged a bit too; midwinter makes my hands get all dry and cracked no matter how much moisturizer I rub into them. Every year at this time, for the last decade or so, I have looked at my dessicated self and thought, This is it, I'm finally old, and I shall have to just accept it and shrivel up. Then spring comes (at least in Ontario, it does) and I'd feel better, except I'm too busy being astounded at the speed with which daffodils and things appear. This year, I've decided to ignore the self-generated rumours of my imminent decrepitude, but my hands still squeal in anguish whenever I have to wash them. This is the time of year somebody picked for Valentine's Day?

Must have been a commitee decision.


However, lunch is on the house today (because of V) and they're letting us out an hour early (because of the enourmous quantities of snow).